Skyfall
by Malhearst
Summary: Man made God in his image, then killed him and made Death work for Man. Man was death, Man was god. The only thing Man had left to fear was Man himself.
_Written for lokilette_

* * *

part i.

 _All is fair in love ─ and war_

 _"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall─"_

 _Little more than an amplified whisper in the middle of a silent night, the words sounded intimate, like a broken prayer on a sinner's lips. No birds sang with their trills, no cicadas disturbed the quaint, windswept town, and the young man, sitting cross-legged on splintering floorboards, sat alone with his mirror._

 _Behind him, crouching in his windowsill, sat another young man, studying him from the shadows. He'd appeared silently by a forgotten plank between their rooms, and he had half a mind to slip away silently again, when the incantation was suddenly continued._

 _"─will I stumble, will I fall─"_

 _Bright blue eyes lighting up, the first boy turned back. That was certainly a new one. Announcing his presence by jumping heavily from his hiding spot, he ignored the jittery, angry outburst of the boy with the mirror and said in an accent, "That's not how mirror magic works."_

 _"How do you know?" was the only reply._

 _"Magic is formed with incantations, not silly rhymes," the tall, blond boy said._

 _"Some magic is formed without incantations at all," the dark-haired─it was impossible to tell colours apart in the desaturated darkness─boy countered, "In Egypt, magic is formed with blood, in Wales with song."_

 _The blond boy stood silent, his arms crossed, his gaze thoughtful._

 _"That's─interesting."_

 _The boy in the attic knitted his eyebrows questioningly._

 _"I'm Gellert," the blond boy said, presenting his hand, "and I know a way to make that spell work."_

.ooo.

The first page went up on the second day they met. Albus remembered the _ritsch_ of the torn paper and the gleam in Gellert's eyes─sparkling, mischievous, hungry─as he ripped it from its spine, discarding the book and pinning the words to the wall with a Sticking Charm. "There."

Albus had stared. "Why would you do that?"

Gellert, a look of momentary disappointment crossing his features before something merry and careless─reckless, some would say, and perhaps Albus would agree─had taken over, said, "This is the beginning of something big, Albus Dumbledore."

"If you're talking about the project to desecrate your great-aunt's library, I'm sure you'll make short process of it."

"Ah, Albus," Gellert had only sighed, "Where you see destruction, I see the potential for something new."

A week or two later, the wooden wall of Albus' attic chamber was half-covered. Around the boys lay books─spine up, in runic patterns, used as bookmarks or dominoes in the boys' eternal struggle to keep from boredom─running candles, single papers with endless doodles, and orange peels. Albus, seeing the room as a map of their genius, looked around with a sigh of contentment before looking up at Gellert.

(There was something like home to the attic all of a sudden─a burrowing madness which frightened and excited him at the same time.)

The other boy was lounging elegantly in his battered, green armchair (when Gellert sat in it, it looked like a throne), a hand crossing his mouth contemplatively.

"No," Gellert said finally, his focus shifting from something undefined in the distance to Albus, "The Serpent Theory is bullocks."

"Why?" Albus asked, amused. He knew his role in the setup already; if he played the fool, he'd be rewarded with entertainment.

(They were already true to Shakespearean form.)

"Because the idea that dinosaurs would _evolve_ into snakes─an animal that already existed─and not die along with the rest of their actual species is ridiculous."

"Some species survived, Gellert, "Albus reminded him, "or there would not be any life on Earth today."

"And this idea of linking it to a Muggle religion?" Gellert scoffed, uninhibited by Albus' attempt at logic. "I thought Purebloods thought themselves better than Muggles because they were enlightened─advanced, if you will."

"Then what is _your_ idea of a true legend, Gellert?"

It didn't take a heartbeat.

"The legend of Arthur."

Albus had to laugh. "That's not a legend; we all know that to be true."

"The Muggles don't. And think about it Albus─if they can be so sure and so wrong at the same time, think about the possibilities of what might exist out there, ours for the taking, if only because we actually believe?"

"Are you going to sell me the Crumple-Horned Snorkack theory now?" There was a twitch in the corner of Albus' mouth; a fleeting sign that for a second, he'd thought he might believe anything that Gellert started arguing.

Gellert smiled, a madman's smile, with all the teeth of someone possessed.

"You remind me of him."

" _Him_?" Albus asked, unable to shake the feeling that he was about to be offended.

"Merlin."

Not knowing what to say, Albus kept quiet.

"He was the most brilliant wizard of his time," Albus made a disbelieving sound at those words, but Gellert continued unperturbed, "a guide to his king, and the saviour of his kingdom."

"I see," Albus replied, a knowing smile on his face, "So I'm the lionheart to your king?"

Gellert, jumping from his seat and onto a small coffee table (Gellert always sent things flying, and Albus always caught them in midair), straightened dramatically. "Make way for King Gellert of Grindelwald and Sir Albus of Dumbledore, first of their kinds, slayers of dragons, turners of minds─and heads─" Gellert winked at Albus, who was sitting in a leaned-back position (legs stretched, arms offering support, wide grin on his face), "leaders of the land, and saviours of the kingdom!"

(A part of Albus knew Gellert would never be satisfied only being a king.)

Straightening from his position, Albus offered Gellert slow claps as the other boy gave a theatrical bow and leapt. His landing shook the floor beneath them slightly, the old townhouse not without its failings, and a wail rose from below.

Albus, looking at Gellert with a mix of apology and sadness, said, "You'd better go."

.ooo.

 _when the end of day is nigh  
_ _watch me, weary, faintly sigh_

.ooo.

It was midnight, and Albus hadn't seen Gellert for a couple of days. The fact was working itself bigger in his head; a less-than-gentle throb of his heart, growing in rhythm with the red rubber ball he kept launching and catching.

Hearing something scuffle by the window, Albus sat up, his brain addled by lackadaisical delirium and his wand at the ready. " _Lumos Maxima_!"

"Merlin, Albie!" Gellert, lowering the arm he'd used to shield his eyes, grinned.

"Gellert!" Albus raised himself on his elbows, a hand on his chest and a smile on his face. "What on Earth, man?"

"Shh," Gellert admonished lightly, a finger placed on his lips. "Come on, I have something to show you."

Curiosity disallowed questioning, and Albus, still dressed thanks to his restless insomnia, followed Gellert. The plank between their windows creaked menacingly, but Albus heard nothing but the excited and hurried breath of Gellert.

(His exhales came in staccato, and it sounded like a symphony.)

As he crawled through the window, it occurred to Albus that this was the first time he'd ever seen Gellert's room in Bathilda's house. Perhaps, he now realised, he'd been resentful of the fact, thinking that Gellert looked down upon his life and didn't want to include Albus in his own.

It was with a sense of pride that Albus realised that quite the opposite was true: Gellert was ashamed of his room. The usually confident boy gave very few and very subtle signs of embarrassment, but Albus saw the way he picked off a hair on his jacket as if he didn't want to look around; the way he hesitated, waiting for Albus to say something.

Albus didn't know what to say. Everything was floral-patterned; stiff, quilted blankets hung on wicker chairs, and all the furniture was made from lightwoods. Although he never mentioned it, Albus knew Gellert cared about aesthetics.

That was why his sorry, poor attic chamber had become their lair.

"Cute," Albus said, barely containing his amusement.

As if scorched, Gellert looked up and, upon seeing Albus' expression, burst into a hushed laugh. "Come on, I want you to see this."

Walking to one of the bedside tables, Gellert drew out a drawer, which gave a whining sigh. Bouncing a little on the bed, he took something from the drawer and handed it to Albus.

"What is it?" Albus asked, looking at Gellert instead of the book.

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard."

Pinning him with a suspicious glance, Albus asked, "Why are you giving me this?"

"You asked me what my idea of a true legend was." Gellert nodded at the book. "The Tale of the Three Brothers."

Tentatively, Albus opened the book, stroking one of the pictures with his fingers.

"It's the reason I came here," Gellert said, his eyes glued to the page.

Albus had a feeling that wasn't the whole truth. "It's a story about cheating death, right?"

"No," Gellert corrected him. "It's a story about accepting death."

A pause.

"That's _true_ immortality, Albus."

(What was a king to a god.)

"And you think this story is true?" Albus was leafing through the chapter without reading the words. Moving pictures showed Death as his skeletal self, and Albus wondered why they had portrayed Death as a dementor.

Gellert's reply was quiet but insistent. "I think one of the brothers died here."

(Man made God in his image, then killed him and made Death work for Man. Man was death, Man was god. The only thing Man had left to fear was Man himself.)

.ooo.

 _have I worn this mask before  
_ _will it wear forever more_

.ooo.

 _Finally, after finishing the ritual, the boys looked at each other, holding the mirror between them. Sharing a determined nod, they smashed it. A cry, much like the roar of a demon, rose from below. The dark-haired boy looked at the blond one, afraid for a moment, but the other didn't seem to notice. He quickly took one of the cloths and swept one of the medium-sized shards in it._

 _"There."_

 _The dark-haired boy stared for a moment. "You know this wasn't what I wanted to do before you came, right?"_

 _"Yes," replied the other one, "but it is now."_

 _He then smiled, an expression that lit up the room or blinded the dark-haired boy, he wasn't sure._

 _"Besides," the blond continued, "if I'd let you go through with it, you might have summoned a Bloody Mary."_

.ooo.

One day during the summer holiday, the warmth addling his brain and his longing leading his steps, Albus came to Gellert. Crawling in through Gellert's window stealthily, he immediately saw the silent figure of his friend, stretched out on the bed, hands folded over his abdomen. There was something glassy over the image; his skin was the fairest in all the land, like alabaster or porcelain. Gellert's breaths were almost imperceptible, and for a second, Albus named the bed Gellert's casket and kingdom.

(King Gellert of Grindelwald, slayer of dragons and master of death.)

.ooo.

"You were expelled, weren't you?" Albus said quietly. His tea sat beside him, steaming, but he didn't pay it much mind. He had asked Bathilda, of course, and it had honestly taken little more than insinuation that Albus knew to get her to confirm his suspicions.

Gellert looked up scornfully. "I ran away."

" _After_ you were thrown out."

Gellert didn't reply; simply sipped his tea as if he could ignore the conversation. Then, as if changing his mind, he set down the cup forcefully and said, "You don't understand, Albus. I only did what everyone else was doing."

"What do you mean?" Albus wanted to support Gellert, but he knew from experience that anyone claiming he wouldn't understand was writing a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"We were _experimenting_."

"With magic?"

"Yes. The only reason they chose me as a scapegoat was because I was the only one strong enough to end it. If it hadn't been for me, half the school would have died."

"I still have no idea what happened."

"We summoned a Djinn," Gellert sighed.

Albus, dread, surprise, and a tinge of curiosity pooling in his stomach, stared.

"It said we had signed a contract with our blood, and that the final payment was up.

"Most of us were scared. It was talking about a human sacrifice. Durmstrang is known to encourage these things, and it hadn't been my idea. If we didn't fulfil the contract, the Djinn would be set free to terrorise the school.

"I should have received a bloody medal."

A heartbeat.

"You did the right thing." Albus' voice was small but steady. Gellert looked up in surprise. "If you hadn't done anything, you would have been responsible for so many more deaths."

(King Gellert of Grindelwald, slayer of Djinns and judge of life and death, by divine decree, a god in his own right.)

"Don't go all John Stuart Mills on me now, Albie," Gellert said with a wobbly smile after a tense few seconds─an attempt to diffuse the tension in the room.

"Who's that?" Albus wrinkled his nose in curiosity.

"The founder of utilitarianism?"

Albus kept staring.

Gellert, rising in one swift movement, went to one of the bookshelves, grabbed a book, and tore out a page. Then he pinned it to the wall.

"Utilitarianism. That which is best for the majority of the people you are trying to protect."

Thinking for a second, Gellert added, "For the greater good."

Albus, nodding slowly, repeated, "For the greater good."

.ooo.

 _or can someone call me home  
_ _to believe, belove, atone_

.ooo.

"You can't really call it _dark_ magic." Gellert scrunched up his nose.

"Exactly!" Albus exclaimed. The sun was set high in the sky as the two boys made their way towards St. Clementine. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is a hollow mix between actual charms and Care of Magical Creatures."

Gellert guffawed and then continued Albus' train of thought. "What if you stumble upon an evil wizard and the only spell you remember is Imperio? I mean, how is commanding him to stay put much worse than incarcerating him physically? It's just another means to an end, and one that might not leave physical evidence!"

Albus shook his head. "I've never understood who decided what was dark magic and what was light magic. It's all about the intention, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Gellert said dreamily, "Kant."

"Hah, yeah!" Albus said with a smirk─he'd spent half a summer having his ear talked off about Immanuel Kant and his ethics. "Except Kant warned us _against_ using human beings as an end."

Gellert looked at him with what Albus, in his giddy state, took for fondness. They rounded the cemetery, and Gellert made a beeline for that one grave, that golden tomb.

As Albus approached, he drew out his wand.

"What are you doing?" Gellert asked, mildly horrified.

"You'll see," Albus responded, crouching and shielding off his work until he was done. "There."

On top of the grave was now embedded a triangle with a circle and a line inside.

(Man made God in his own image, and here they stood: God Gellert of Grindelwald and Sir Albus of Dumledore, his personal Messiah.)

* * *

Prompts

 **Months of the Year:** Write about a leader  
 _Additional prompts_ : warmth, sentimentality, red, guide, holiday

 **The Game Is On:** A Study in Scarlet: Write about a Gryffindor

 **The Valentine-Making Station:** Ice Cream Cone, Sun, Top Hat, Indigo, Red,

 **Diagon Alley II Bingo:** Immortality

 **Fairy Tales Competition:** Snow White - Write about a runaway.  
 _Bonus prompts:_ throne, midnight

 **The Multi-Chapter List:** Introduce your protagonist in this chapter

 **Challenge Your Versality:** Greater Good Era


End file.
